Home
by Blithe Novelties
Summary: He remembered what his mother had said, bitterly realizing how wrong she was about going back home. He knew he could never return home, even if all this ended-"home" was gone.


**AN: As I've done before, I've procrastinated with updating my fanfiction by writing yet another fanfiction. **

**This fanfiction in particular is inspiried by the song, "93 Million Miles" by Jason Mraz, which I had on repeat while writing it.**

**I apologize for any mistakes I've made, as I've forgotten bits and pieces here and there.**

**Zombies, Run! belongs to Naomi Alderman and Six to Start.**

ZR!: Home:

He squeezed his eyes, trying to block out the sound of his father's vehement voice, but already Sam knew it was fruitless; whenever the elder Mr. Yao was pissed, he only seemed to grow louder the harder you tried to block him out. Sam imagined his father's face being blood red in color, hair dishelved, his arms waving madly about with the cause of this immense anger clutched tightly in his hands-true, while this was more like something one would find in a cartoon or something of the sort, it wasn't very far off to how his dad probably was acting right now.

"...You can't just let the boy continue with this...this _insanity!_ Everytime you go to him, saying "oh Sam, it's all right", you're only encouraging him! He _needs_ to be punished-one of my own _failing_ a class? No. I won't have it," Mr. Yao paused, taking a sharp intake of breath before proceeding with his rant. "If he was raised by _my_ father, he would have been kicked out of the house by now. And honestly? I'm starting to think that maybe that's not a terrible idea after all."

"Love..." The thick wood of his door muffled his mother's voice, but Sam could hear her nonetheless. "Don't you think you're being...unreasonable?"

"Unreasonable? _Unreasonable?! _What's unreasonable are his grades-if he's failing French, what else could he be failing? I know that if he's failing his Engineering course, I won't heistate in disowning him."

Sam felt sick to his stomach, knowing that sooner or later, his parents would find out what he had been so desperately trying to hide. Then where would he go? It wasn't as if he had many friends who'd allow him to stay at their place until he was able to find a good job. He supposed he could stay with his sister and her boyfriend, though he didn't much care for being a third wheel.

Downstairs, the arguement continued, "Have you ever even _tried_ talking to your son-_without_ telling him he's a complete failure?"

"He's failing one of his easier courses. To me, that is nothing short of a failure."

"Do you ever think that Sam's failing because you're putting far too much stress on him? That perhaps, you're scaring him so much that he panics and can't concentrate on his work?" Frustrated, Mrs. Yao began to raise her own voice. "Maybe if you weren't so hard on h-"

"He's not stressed; he's lazy, unmotivated, and careless-which you seem to turn a blind eye to."

"What the hell is with you?! Don't you hear how you sound right now? You...you sound like a bloody maniac who's angry that he can't completely control everyone around him- you sound like a madman!"

"Maybe if our son was more like-"

"Oh _no_ you're not comparing our children. I will _not_ allow you to do that."

There was a moment of silence, followed by the sound of the front door slamming shut. Prying his eyes open, Sam allowed himself to walk over to the window; his father's car was backing out of the driveway, inside of it, his dad was struggling to keep himself calm. _Off for a drive...He only does that when he's __**really **__pissed... _Sucking in a shaky breath, he placed his forehead against the cool glass, though, it offered no help whatsoever.

"I'm dead," he muttered. "I am one hundred percent_ dead."_

"Sam?" He jumped; he hadn't even heard his mother come up the stairs. "Are you okay?"

"Oh...ah...hi mum..." A nervous smile tugged at his lips. "...Yeah, I'm...I'm fine..." his gaze darted back to the window: something that did not go unnoticed.

"Come here," she pulled him into her embrace. "You know your father loves you, right?"

Sam snorted, clearly expressing his disbelief.

"He does, you know. He just," she sighed, "he just has a difficult time showing it." She pulled away, resting her hands on his shoulders. "All we want is for you to be happy, okay?"

_Happy? Then why are you both forcing me to do something I'm not good at? Something I don't even want to do?_

Clearly afraid that her words weren't of any use, Mrs. Yao tried to make an offer, "Just finish up this year, and we'll see how everything goes, all right? If you don't want to be an engineer, you don't have to...just...can you try to get through the rest of the year?"

"I...okay."

"Good," she placed a kiss on his forehead and ruffled his hair despite his protests. "And Sam?"

"Yeah mum?"

"Just remember that after you move out...if you ever need a place to stay, you're more than welcome to come back; this will always be your home for as long as you want it to be..." she smiled, ruffled his hair once more, and proceeded to walk out of the room.

"Mum...?"

"Yes?" she paused, her hand lightly gripping the door knob.

"...Thanks."

"You're welcome, sweetheart."

**XxX**

Sam's arms dropped weakly to his side, but the grip on his ax remained firm. Despite the fact that mere weeks ago, he would have insisted that something like this could never happen-except in video games and movies-people were turning into zombies left and right. You get bitten? Boom. Zombie. One of said creatures had managed to break the lock to the Yao household, and, (unfortunately for Sam) before he was able to re-kill it, it had bitten both of his parents.

Blood and brains were splattered across the pale yellow walls, and the ancient vase handed down through his father's family lay in pieces on the floor. Shelves were over turned, knick knacks scattered about in their attempt to find a weapon to use against the walking dead (or as a distraction, if not a weapon); nothing had worked, and, as they were losing valuable time and energy, Mr. Yao had shouted at Sam to get the ax from the tool shed as he kept the zombie busy.

If Sam would have just been a few seconds faster, he probably could have saved them.

His father had been gripping at his neck, face pale, when he'd returned, and his mother (who'd attempted to defend her husband from being bitten a second time) found her skin come into contact with the zombie's teeth right before his eyes.

Angered-more at himself than anyone else-Sam had found himself rushing full force at the zom, wielding his newfound weapon; he didn't stop striking until it ceased its moving. As he pulled the weapon out of the thing's head, it made a disgusting "squelch." A chunk of brain slid off of the blade, hitting the floor with a squish.

"Mum...Dad...I..." he stood there trembling, eyes wide, and face drained of all color, uneasiness plain on his features; he tried to keep himself from looking at the grey corpse lying motionless beside him.

"Sam...you...you need..." Whatever it is she'd wanted to say was cut short by a series of body-racking coughs. "You need to..."

His father finished the setence, "save yourself." Sam felt as if he were in some cliched movie and would've laughed at the words had his parents not been on the brink of joining the army of the undead.

"But you-"

"Save yourself," he repeated, trying (and failing) to stop himself from coughing. "Get out...look for your...your sis-sister...just..._go."_

He felt helpless, standing there as they were slowly dying, guilt clutching him in its grasp. _He _should be the one who was bitten, not them. Sam had nothing to offer the world except for interests in video games and radio-which were more useless these days than before, considering the "zombie apocalyspe" called for _actual _skills, not simple hobbies.

His parents were far more important than he; they and his sister actually had things to offer that could prove helpful, unlike him: useless, lazy, unmotivated Sam.

"I-"

"Sam, listen to your father. You can't...can't do anything to help us. We're going to...I don't want you to turn, Sam. ...Please...just...go," Mrs. Yao's face was contorted in pain. "You..."

"Kill us."

_"What?!" _ Sam was taken aback by how calmly his father could say those words together.

"You heard...heard me...use the ax. Kill us." His coughing was growing worse as time passed.

"That's...I can't...are you _mad?!"_

"The way things are going, you're going...to have to kill more people before they turn, so why not start with us?"

He felt his mouth go dry, knowing full well he'd lost the arguement. "Can I...can I at least sit with you until I have to..." he swallowed. "Do you both in?"

"Sam..." his mother was pleaing with him, tears glistening in her eyes. "Don't do this...don't make it harder than it needs to be..."

"I...okay..." Shakily, he raised the ax above his father, preparing to swing downward at full force when the elder man spoke once more.

"I love you, son..." With a sickening crack, the weapon pierced his skull, sending bone fragments (as well as more brains) flying.

Before Sam could lose his nerve, he repeated the action, this time with his mother.

Covered in bits and pieces of his parents, Sam felt as if he would puke, but at the same time, nothing would come up. Trembling violently now, he gripped his ax tighter, not bothering to stop the onslaught of tears streaming down his face.

After a few seconds, he forced himself to move, forced himself to get the backpack that he'd filled with emergency supplies just days before from his room, and to get moving.

There was nothing here for him any more: his parents were dead, and their house wasn't safe any more. Soon, it would be a haven for swarms of zombies, leaving it unhabitable for the living.

He knew he could never return home, even if all this ended-"home" was gone.

**XxX**

Due to yet another short supply of runner not only doing supply runs, he'd been guarding the southern wall, an ax in his hand (not _his _ax, as that had been destroyed weeks ago), when he spotted someone-or _something_, as Sam quickly reminded himself-heading straight for the township...if one could even call it that.

Abel was just a dinky little thing, consisting of one giant farmhouse at the, a shabby garden to the north, a tent as a hospital nearby, and "houses" that were more shacks than anything else surrounded by walls that most people doubted were even stable enough to hold back raiders, much less zoms.

Thus, the need for guards twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week until enough supplies could be gathered to build stronger walls.

Whatever it was seemed too fast to possibly be a zom, but even if the person made it within reach of Abel, they had a growing pack of the undead on their heels, which spelled certain doom for the base and all of its residents.

_They might make it here long before the horde if they try hard enough... _Vaguely, he wondered if there was a chance the mystery runner could be his sister, and held onto that hope until the person got close enough for him to see their features and those hopes were dashed.

The runner was a pretty, dark-skinned girl; she was covered in a sheen of sweat, her clothes sticking to her body. The pack on her back gave little bounces each time her foot would hit the ground. However, what really made Sam stare in absolute bewilderment was how far the horde that'd been chasing her was falling behind.

Within a few more moments, the stranger had made it to the gates, dishelved from the long run. "Holy..." gasping for breath, she bent over, hands on her knees. "Holy hell. ...Must've run thirty five kilometers at _least." _Catching her breath, she stood up straight, her gaze on Sam. "Not trying to be bossy or anything, but can you let me in? I don't know how much longer it'll be before they get here, but I _really_ don't want to be out here when they do. "

"Uh...sure?" He called to the other side for someone to raise the gates (luckily Abel's residents were smart enough to install automated gates as soon as they were able to-several bases had fallen to zombies due to having a simple latched gate.)

"Thanks," she nodded. "You should get inside too, you know...I highly doubt you can take on twenty or so zoms by yourself."

"H-hey!" Sam protested weakly, not wanting to seem like he couldn't hold his own in front of her. "How do you know I'm not a professional zombie killer?" ...Though, he probably succeeded in making himself seem foolish in his attempt.

"Uh huh," the girl raised an eyebrow. "And if you're so good at killing zombies, then where were you when I had that horde coming after me?"

"I...uh..."

"Thought so," she strolled through the gates without waiting for him to follow.

Despite the fact that he'd get into serious trouble with both Janine and the Major, Sam couldn't help but follow her and quell at least _some_ of his curiousity. _Besides...someone needs to take her to the Major for a background check. _"Hey, you-what's your name?"

"Huh?" she turned around to face him. "Who, me? I'm Alice. Alice Dempsey." A warm smile lit up her features. "And you? What may I have the pleasure of calling you, "Mr. Professional Zombie Killer"?"

"Sam Yao," he answered, returning the grin. "Pleased to meet you."

He'd only just now met Alice, and already he was beginning to feel at ease around her; there was just something about her that reminded him of life before the outbreak.

She reminded him of home.


End file.
